The Wild, Wild West
by moviemaniac217
Summary: Remy is a rich and notorious gambler. Anna has been kidnapped from her simple life by an outlaw. When their fates cross over a game of cards, will they fight the undeniable attraction that they feel to each other? Or will their roles as master and servant turn into something more?
1. Two Sides of a Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men: Evolution. I know there are several other westerns out there and I hope that my story is something a little refreshing for everyone. Enjoy!

* * *

Remy LeBeau was a gambler, and he was good at it too. He hadn't lost a game in over 10 years and his exploits had become something of a legend. Time after time he had beaten seasoned veterans, time after time he had put each new crop of gamblers in their place. He was the unquestioned King of Gamblers and all those who frequented the dim, smoke-filled room in Bolivar Trask's saloon knew better than to try to best him.

The man sitting across from him wasn't a regular; in fact he wasn't even from the area. He was young, no more than 18 if he wasn't mistaken. His eyes were an unusually dark shade of violet and what hair peeked from under his hat was a blue-violet tinged black. His clothing was interesting as well, a mix of Eastern and foreign influences.

Remy shuffled all that info to the back of his mind to mull over later, right now he had to put this young out-of-towner back into his place. The kid was over eager and despite the poker face he had tried to smooth across his features, he still had obvious tells. The shift in his eyes, the way he jutted his jaw, a raised eyebrow, a barely audible sigh; he read them all like a book.

The young man hesitated and placed a bag of coins on the table, biting his lip as he did so. Remy's red and black eyes flickered with amusement at the tell but he kept his face carefully neutral. "What you got son?" he asked, rich Cajun accent filling the room.

The boy quietly lay down his cards to show a full house. Remy finally did grin; he had read the boy exactly right. He lay down his own hand, a royal flush. He had won.

There was a loud sighing sound as the bar patrons let out a breath they'd been holding and started to go back to their drinks and girls, the fun of seeing Remy beat another player now over. Remy gathered his winnings from the table and stood up.

"C'mon stranger," he said with a warm laugh as he slapped the kid on the back," I'll buy you a drink. Fred," he called to the monstrous hulk of a man behind the bar," A shot of bourbon for me and a glass of whiskey for _mon_ _ami _here."

The man grunted and poured the two glasses of liquor, setting them on the bar with startling grace. He picked them up and handed one to the kid. They clinked their glasses together in a silent toast and tossed back the shots in a gulp.

"So _mon ami_," he said, setting the glass back on the worn bar top," What do they call you?"

The kid grimaced slightly as the liquor burned its way down his throat, but that was quickly lost as a brilliant smile spread across his face. "Kurt Vagner," he said in a heavily accented voice, holding out his hand.

"Remy LeBeau," he replied, shaking the kid's hand," What brings you out to this disreputable part of the West?"

"I'm looking for someone," he said softly, accepting another shot of liquor," My mother, and maybe _meine_ half-_schwester_ as vell."

"Well if she wrote you a letter, then don't you know where she is already?" he asked as he gulped down his second bourbon and started to nurse a third.

"My mother, Raven Darkholme, wrote me a letter a few months ago and it vas posted from here in Bay City, but she never gave me her exact location. And of course vat could have been to throw me off her trail, or because she vas on her vay elsewhere."

"Raven Darkholme," he mused," Haven't seen her in a long time, but doesn't mean she ain't been through here. Didn't know she had a daughter though, or a son for that matter. Where you from anyways?"

"Germany," he said simply.

"That explains the accent, and the suit."

"Vat's wrong vith the suit?" he asked confused.

"Nothin', just that it screams 'tenderfoot' and looks like somethin' a _homme_ might wear down Main Street to start a fight," he chuckled.

"Good point," Kurt chuckled," I guess it would be a good thing if I trade in the clothes. Any idea where a man could find some better clothes?"

"The best seamstress in Bay City is just down the street," he chuckled and finished off his drink," Come on, I'll introduce you."

* * *

Anna Marie sighed and scrubbed a little harder at the clothes, washing the remains of the lye soap from the nearly threadbare clothing. She was already tired and the sun was only half way across the sky.

_But_, she reasoned, _I suppose doing the work of two people will do that to a person_. She sighed and shook her head as she gathered the clean clothing into a basket and headed back toward the rickety shack she lived in with her Aunt Irene. _I wish Mom were here. _

She knew her mother was a wanderer, one who refused to be bound to one man or one place for too long. It was a trait she both respected and hated about her mother. She respected it because her mother was a strong woman and never let anyone rule her. And besides, she had a little bit of that wandering spirit herself, the desire to see what was beyond the next bend in the road, the next curve in the stream. But at the same time she hated it, she hated taking over all the chores and the fact that she hadn't been raised by her mother like the other girls she knew.

She opened the door with a loud screech and let it slam shut behind her. Irene looked up, unseeing eyes almost seeming to focus on her. "Any trouble with the laundry Anna?"

"No Aunt Irene, everythin's fine," she drawled as she started to hang up the laundry by the stove," How do ya feel about eggs and cornbread for dinner?"

"Sounds wonderful dear. Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, lightly grasping her cane in her hand.

You can fold these fer meh," she said, taking a moment to hand her a pile of dry clothes," And I'll start on dinner."

Irene immediately began to fold the clothes with confidence, while Anna began to mix together the cornmeal and other ingredients for the cornbread. Soon she had a cast-iron skillet full of the pale batter and she set it on the stove after placing another log in the fire. She cracked a few eggs from their dwindling supply and soon they were sizzling merrily in the pan.

They ate in silence, washing down their simple meal with water drawn from the stream. After they were finished, Anna set the dishes aide for later and headed out to weed their meager vegetable garden. She sighed as she eyed the sparsely growing plants.

_If this winter is anything like last one, _she thought to herself_, I don't know if we'll survive it. We don't have enough money to feed us through the winter and there's very little honest work for single women. _

She shook her head and pulled the weeds more fiercely. No matter how hard things got, she refused to marry just for comfort or, she swallowed, to work in a saloon. She had seen those girls and as a child had longed to be one of them; wearing beautiful clothes, much nicer than the simple homespun she was wearing, talking to so many interesting men, making them laugh. Soon, however, sense and Irene's constant dragging of her to church and Irene herself convinced her otherwise.

_But, _she reasoned to herself_, if things don't change soon, I might not have a choice. _

She shook her head to clear out the pessimistic voices and continued to weed the garden under the hot sun, unaware that change was riding her direction in the guise of a man with long, blonde hair and a cruel, animalistic temperament by the name of Victor Creed.


	2. Fate is in the Cards

Anna Marie was absolutely furious. First, the mangy animal known as Victor Creed kidnapped her in broad daylight, dragging her kicking and screaming onto the back of his mangy horse. Second, she had absolutely no idea how her Aunt Irene was doing or even if she was still alive, Creed's reputation preceded him and she had heard enough horrors to be extremely wary of him. And lastly she had no idea where they were or where they were going, any attempt to ask him had only resulted in growls at best and blows at worst. Her pale features already supported several bruises from his fists when she angered him.

Currently she was lying across the back of his horse on her stomach, watching the dusty ground pass by in her limited view. She could have turned either way, but with the rear of Creed's horse in one direction and Creed's own rear in the other she preferred the ground.

As the time passed, the dusty grass of the plains gave way to the hard packed ground of a well-traveled road. Soon she could hear the steadily rising sounds of people, dogs, carriages, and horses. She dared to look up; blatantly ignoring the uncomplimentary view she was getting and craned her neck to look around at the scene in front of them.

A town sprang out of surrounding countryside like so many children's toys, scattered buildings around a well-worn front road. He urged his horse forward and turned into a dark, empty alley and followed its meandering route to a small ramshackle building tucked in the disreputable part of town. The faded sign out front said "Lily Pad Saloon" and she fought to keep from laughing. Though this town of whatever name was by a river, she had yet to see any ponds in the vicinity.

_Not like I seen much else than Creed's nasty rear and the ground, _she thought as he dismounted and tied his horse to a hitching post_._

Creed tested the gag in her mouth to make sure it was still secure, ignoring her emerald-eyed glare that could have melted him if she'd been able to shoot lasers from her eyes. He hauled her off his horse and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of flour, ignoring her kicking and squirming. He made his way around a corner of the building and opened the door to a small outbuilding on the side. Tossing her inside he shut the door, locked it, and walked away, leaving her alone in the darkness. She struggled against her bonds and tried to make noise, hoping that someone would come to her rescue. But there was nothing out there but the sound of garish piano music and the occasional shout of drunken laughter.

* * *

Remy LeBeau was a rich man. He came from an old family in New Orleans and owned property there as well as here in the booming town of Bay City. He also owned the "Golden Charger," the finest gambling hall this side of the Mississippi where the stakes were good and liquor poured like water. Oddly, or at least oddly to the people of town, the only business he did not seem to run in one capacity or another was a brothel. Equally as strange is that Remy would generally be found in any gambling hall or saloon other than his own.

His usual reply to that statement was a smile and a shrug. "It ain't good for _mon _business if I keep cleanin' out the hall _hein_?" he'd ask, unusual eyes twinkling with mirth.

As to why he wouldn't run a brothel, he wasn't quite sure of it himself. He liked all kinds of women, that much was true, he could often be found at any one of the saloons with several girls hanging off his arms. After all, it was well known that he paid well and wasn't excellent in any capacity. But he just never could see making the girls sell themselves to others, much less take part of their earnings from them. It just didn't sit well with him. Besides, there were plenty of brothels around so he wasn't complaining.

He shuffled the cards in one hand as he took a drag of his cigarette, watching his opponent with narrowed eyes. Victor Creed sat across from him, just about dead drunk. Which, knowing his incredible ability to hold his liquor, was not supposed to be possible. But there he was, bleary eyed and looking like he was about to pass out on the table. He was also much poorer than when he came in.

Victor tried focusing on his cards and looked up to meet Remy's eyes. "I got… one more thing… ta bet," he slurred," Some witch I picked up from outside Meridian."

"I don't want ta be ownin' another human bein' Creed," Remy frowned, disgusted at the outlaw's nerve.

"Oh come on LeBeau," the man all but whined," She's a strong girl, make a fine housekeeper or bedroom companion." His expression became lecherous," She's spirited and a pretty little thing too, hear you like them that way. But if you don't want her then I'll guess I'll have to sell her to one of the other guys."

He paused in shuffling the cards. He could use a housekeeper, and if she was as pretty as he claimed then she wouldn't be bad to have around the house. But still, could he own another person and do what he always said he wouldn't? At least after he'd had his fun with her he'd try to help her get home and back to whatever family she came from. If he left her with Creed only _Dieu _knew where she'd end up.

"Okay Creed," he sighed," You can bet the gal."

Creed grinned, an almost animal-like expression, and watched carefully as Remy dealt the cards. They picked up their cards and studied them, and then began the game. Remy was instantly grateful that Creed was off his game tonight, this was a game he really didn't want to lose. Eventually Creed did lose and the hulking man tossed him a key before lumbering off to look for someplace to sleep off his liquor.

Todd 'The Toad' Tolanski, owner of the "Lily Pad Saloon" crept over to Remy's side and stared curiously at the key in his hand.

"Hey," he said suddenly," That's the key to my old liquor cellar; I was wondering where that wandered off to. Figures that Creed would have it."

"Where is this cellar?" he asked as he got to his feet and gathered the night's winnings.

"Round the side in the alley," he replied," Bet that girl is probably froze clean through by now."

"Probably," he said and headed out the swinging doors. "Be seein' you later Toad," he called over his shoulder, snickering when he heard the man groaning over his much-hated nickname.

He turned the corner into the moonlight alley and stopped by the doors to the old cellar, unlocking the slightly rusted padlock with finesse. He swung open the doors and gasped in surprise.

She was stunning. Her pale skin nearly glowed in the moonlight, and her flashing emerald eyes glared at him from over a gag that was tied round her mouth. Her dress was simple homespun cloth that was dusty and ripped from the long days of traveling. It fit her curves nicely he decided, even if was covered in a layer of dirt and cobwebs. Her hair, a tangled cascading mass of unruly curls that he couldn't make out the color of except for two white locks that framed her face, was no doubt in need of a good cleaning as well as her skin that was spotted with patches of dirt. He smiled at her, leaning against the side of the building.

_"__Bonjour belle."_


	3. Propositions

Anna Marie had never been comfortable around other people, yet here she was having breakfast with a man she didn't know. She picked at the eggs on her plate; they looked like something she didn't even want to pretend to think about eating. Every now and then she'd glance at her companion.

He was handsome, she decided. His slightly long auburn hair framed his features well, and his red and black eyes were both frightening and compelling. Or at least they were now, she amended, when she had seen them last night they had slightly frightened her. Now she couldn't help but be intrigued by them, by the way they seemed to reflect his soul in their depths. She blinked and then turned her attention back to her, um, food, before he could catch her staring.

She could hear him turn the page of his newspaper and chuckle. "Ya know _chere_," he drawled," I won't bite ya head off if you have something you'd like to ask. Besides, didn't your _mere_ ever teach ya that it's rude to stare?"

_Dang it_, she thought and raised an eyebrow at him, "Didn't your mama ever tell ya'll that it ain't polite to question a lady while she's eatin'?"

He chuckled. "_Touche_," he admitted, raising his coffee cup to her in a silent toast," I must admit, you certainly have the spirit he was talkin' about."

"Who? Creed?" she growled," Scum pure and simple."

"I'll have to agree with you on dat one _chere_," he replied and finished off the last of his breakfast," He's a little too crude an vicious for my likin.'"

She remained silent and he carefully folded the newspaper up and set it aside. "Well _chere_," he sighed," I reckon it's about time we had ourselves a little talk."

She only nodded and he stood up, pulling her chair out for her. She paused, startled, and then stood up with a fluid grace trained into her by her mother on the rare occasion she was home. He smiled and led the way to a heavy oak door at the back of the room. He opened it to reveal a tastefully decorated study.

"Now then _chere_," he said after he seated the both of them on a plush red lounge," I think it's about time we talked 'bout how ya are goin' fit into my house."

"What does that mean?" she snapped, cheeks burning at his word choice," And don't call me _chere_."

"Well what do you wanna be called den?" he asked, one eyebrow raising as he lit a cigarette," I never did catch your name when I brought you home."

She paused and considered it. She didn't really want to give him her real name, even her mother rarely called her by it. Only Irene ever did. Her heart clenched at the memory of her Aunt. Was she still alive? Was she okay? How was she making out on her own? But she derailed her train of thought when she became conscious of his piercing gaze on her.

"Rogue," she growled, using the one name her mother called her when frustrated beyond all reason with her.

He lifted an eyebrow, but still took her hand in his own. "Remy LeBeau," he said and brushed his lips across her knuckles.

She jerked her hand back from his grip and crossed her arms in a decidedly unladylike manner. "So just why am Ah here?"

He leaned back in his seat and took another drag of his cigarette before answering. "Well it's like this _cher_- Rogue," he began," Creed bet you in a game of cards, and obviously I won. And as much as I hate the circumstances I, in few words, own you."

Rogue felt her mouth drop open in shock. He had to be joking, but his eyes told her the truth. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before finally getting her voice to work.

"Ah don't belong to anyone," she hissed," And Ah'm nobody's to gamble with. Ah'm not a horse or a pile of money."

"I beg to differ," Remy said and snuffed out his cigarette," Whether he was right or wrong, the fact is that Creed was in his legal rights to bet you, even if he did kidnap you. I won, so I won everything that he put down, including you."

He leaned back and observed her for a moment before speaking again. "Now I don't really like this situation much more than you do, so I'll make a deal with you. I need a housekeeper and cook, and though I could just force you to do both, I won't. Instead, all the work you do will go towards paying off your debt to me."

"Is that really all you want from me?" she couldn't help but ask, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. She'd seen his eyes roaming over her body and she had a good suspicion of what else he'd like her to do.

"I'm a man of the world Rogue," he said and laced his fingers behind his head," and I'm most certainly no saint. I'll have to admit, I do like sharing my bed with beautiful women. And you most certainly qualify as a beautiful woman." He ran his eyes over her form again and then met her eyes.

"However," he continued," I never go where I ain't wanted. A _femme _don't want me in her bed, then I won't force the issue."

Rogue bit her lip as she colored a beautiful rose pink. Though every fiber of her being hated this, rebelled at being owned like a piece of livestock, she knew she had no choice. Be forced to work and have no chance of escape, or work long enough to either pay her debt or escape. There was no decision to make but one.

"Fine," she grumbled," How long will it take to work off my debt?"

"I'll let you know when it's paid," he said," Until then, follow the house rules and do what you've agreed to and everything will be fine. Understood?"

She nodded stiffly after a moment of consideration. He nodded in response and stood. "C'mon," he said and held out his hand for her to take," I'll give you a tour of the house and then into town to pick up whatever you'll need."

* * *

Remy led Rogue through the crowded streets of Bay City headed for one place in particular. He stopped at the front door of a quaint shop. It was whitewashed and a veritable explosion of pink flowers seemed to almost drown it along with a sign that read "Katherine Pryde, Seamstress." He opened the door and a bell tinkled as they both stepped inside.

Katherine Pryde was a peppy brunette with a willowy, girlish figure that drew quite a few male stares whenever she went out. She also had a hyper, naive personality; and though she drove him crazy, he loved her like a younger sister and often treated her as such. She was busy darting around her shop with tape measures and bolts of fabric and ribbon, reminding him of a colorful dust devil. She glanced up at the bell and came to a sudden stop.

"Oh hello Remy," she said with a bright smile," Needing a new suit today or are you picking out a gift for one of your lady friends?"

He chuckled and motioned to Rogue who was looking around like she was expecting a snake to come out of the walls and bite her. "_Non, _not today Kitty. Dis is my new housekeeper Rogue. Rogue, dis is Kitty Pryde, da best seamstress in all of Bay City."

"Pleased ta meet ya," Rogue said with a cordial smile, and reached out a hand.

"Oh and you as well," Kitty bubbled and enthusiastically took Rogue's hand in hers," It is so nice to finally meet one of these mysterious women Remy is always in here buying things for."

"Actually Ah'm his new housekeeper," she said and glanced at him with a less than enthused expression," At least for the tahme bein'"

"And since she came in somthin' of a hurry, she be needin' some new clothes. Think you could help out?"

Kitty gave him the same look a mother would give a child that had declared the sky to be green and sighed dramatically. "Really Remy?" she asked," I'm sure I did not just hear you ask that."

"Oh dis old Cajun wouldn't dare ask if y'all could sew," he chuckled as she placed her hands on her hips," But I was just wondering if y'all wouldn't mind helpin'."

She narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips, thoughtfully tapping one finger against the pink fabric of her dress. He kept his poker face with the addition a light smirk and stared back at her. He knew she was trying to read into his statement and find any hint of a lie in them. But Kitty Pryde was going against the master, and she knew it. With a sigh, she admitted her defeat and returned her attention to Rogue.

"What's my limit?" she asked and pulled Rogue forward into the light.

"Dere is't one," he said and enjoyed Kitty's squeal and Rogue's look of surprise," But I have other business to attend ta here in town. So I'll leave you _deux _together. Don't run off." He directed the last comment at Rogue who scowled at him momentarily before looking away, clearly irritated. He smirked and with a low bow, exited the shop, leaving Rogue in the company of her seamstress/ watchdog named Kitty.


	4. A Morning in Motion

Rogue growled and yanked a brush through her wild mess of auburn and white curls. She never had been a morning person, and now with the job of housekeeper for Remy she had to be up by the time the rooster crowed. And speaking of that stupid bird, the rooster's loud crowing echoed faintly through the house and she snorted in contempt.

"If it wasn't for the fact that y'all would be too tough and stringy," she growled," I'd fry ya up for supper one of these days."

She yanked open the door to her room and stepped out into the hall. Her room was in the main living area of the house, just a few rooms down from his, so she had to be careful not to wake him. Not that she was particularly worried, as late as he'd come in he'd been out at one of the brothels and a couple of the saloons, so he'd probably sleep until noon.

But then he did have a nasty habit of surprising her. She yawned and stirred up the embers in the kitchen stove before tossing some wood inside. Soon, she had a merry little fire crackling and she set a pot of coffee on to boil. She heard a door open and shut in the hall she had come from and the sound of approaching footsteps met her ears.

"You were in late," she told him as he stepped into the kitchen," You should get back to sleep."

"Oh but _chere_," Remy chuckled through a yawn," Why sleep when I have you to annoy?"

She rolled her eyes and cracked a few eggs into a cast iron skillet. He poured a cup of coffee for himself and sat at the kitchen table with it. They sat in silence while she finished cooking their breakfast of biscuits, bacon, and eggs. It wasn't until he'd almost polished off his plate that he realized she hadn't really eaten a thing.

"Something bothering you _chere?_" he asked her as he finished his last few bites," Ya ain't really touched your food."

She looked up, startled that he noticed, and shook her head. "Nothin'," she said and began clearing away the breakfast dishes," It's just that breakfast kinda reminded me of the ones Ah'd occasionally have with my Aunt Irene when we had enough money."

"You miss her?" he asked quietly.

She snorted in disbelief. "What do ya mean, do Ah miss her? Of course Ah do. Ah'm also worried about her, she'd blind and Ah have no idea if she's okay, or even if she's still alive." She finished her tirade with a deep, sodden breath, the tensions of the last few weeks threatening to come to the surface.

He stayed silent and simply watched her for a few moments. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then continued her work. She heard him leave the room, and finally, she allowed her composure to crack.

* * *

Remy finished buttoning up his black vest, and slipped on his jacket. He could hear her muffled weeping from the kitchen, and a pang of guilt stabbed at his conscience.

"_Qu'est-ce que vous faites pour vous-même _Remy?" he asked himself and quietly left the house. [What are you doing to yourself Remy?]

Even through his sleep-fogged mind he thought she looked like an angel. Her auburn and white curls cascaded down her back like a waterfall, and the simple green dress that Kitty had brought by accented her curves to the fullest. He swallowed as he pictured her in his mind's eye with something a little more revealing on and he shook his head. She was the hired help, and he had no right to think of her like that. But he had to admit, she made it tempting.

He walked through the quiet streets of town. It was still too early for the saloons to really be jumping, and besides, that wasn't his destination. He knocked on the door of a simple house in the town square and waited.

A slim, woman with green eyes and waist-length red hair answered the door. "Why Remy," she greeted him with a smile," Come on in, Scott's in the dining room and I was just making breakfast. Would you care to join us?"

"No Jean, I jus' came from breakfast," he chuckled and stepped inside," I actually came ta pick yo' husband's mind."

"Well he's in there," she said and motioned to a nearby doorway," Feel free to pick away."

He chuckled and stepped into the simply decorated room. A handsome, brown-haired man sat at the simple oak table sipping a cup of coffee. He looked up at the unexpected presence and sighed.

"Jean, must you let in the town troublemaker?" he groaned," And at breakfast time no less?"

"Troublemaker _mon ami_?" he said and took a seat," I ain't never been in any real trouble wit' you."

"That can change," Scott said and quickly slipped into his Sheriff attitude," Now what's this I hear about you keeping a girl that you won in a card game?"

"I'm keeping nothing _homme_," he said and leaned back in his chair," Da girl is working off her debt ta me."

"Really?" Scott demanded and glared at Remy through a pair of warm brown eyes," Because according to Kitty, Toad, and anyone else I've asked in this town she seems to be on a short leash with you."

Remy kept his poker face, but internally cursed every single person he could think of who had trouble with minding their own business. Besides, he had a pretty good idea how Scott had found out. Jean was particularly fond of spending time at Kitty Pryde's seamstress shop and knowing how much that girl loved to gossip. He suppressed a groan; yes he definitely knew how Scott had found out.

"Listen _mon ami_," he sighed and fought valiantly to keep any irritation out of his voice," I actually came ta ask ya'll for help. Rogue, my new housekeeper, is a little worried about her _Tante_. I was hoping maybe ya could use some of ya contacts and see how she is."

"Where's she from?" Scott asked, interest piqued in spite of himself.

"Someplace called Meridian, but _Dieu _knows where dat is."

"Actually, it's a place about a two week journey from here," he said and took another drink of coffee," My friend Sam Guthrie is the sheriff there, I can send him a message if it'll make that 'housekeeper' of yours any happier."

Remy bristled at the suggestion behind the 'housekeeper' statement but still kept his poker face smoothed across his features.

"_Bon_ Sheriff," he said and rose from his seat," Jus' let me know if ya hear anything'. _Bon matin._"

With a slight bow he left the house as silently as a thief, and made his way over to the 'Golden Charger'. He had been neglecting the business side of his gambling house for far too long, and besides he figured Rogue needed some time to collect herself before he came home.

He unlocked the door to his office and stepped inside. Ignoring his coat rack, he tossed his jacket onto the back of a plush velvet chair and sunk into another one with a sigh. He tried to focus on the pile-up of paperwork that was scattered around his desk in what looked like the aftermath of an explosion. But all he could think about was a lovely Southern belle with auburn and white hair.

* * *

Sorry everyone for the amount of time it took me to put this chapter up and for its shortness. But between the crazy hours I've been working and the fact that this story is kicking my butt with the oddest case of writer's block that I've ever had is making it difficult to post things in a timely manner. And add that to a bunch of other stories that are begging me to give them voice and all the twists and turns I foresee for this story, well let's just say that I suspect that progress is going to be painfully slow. But the story will go on, never fear and I have no intentions of abandoning it. So until the next chapter sees light of day I bid you happy reading and happy days. ~moviemaniac217


	5. A Hint of Trouble

Remy leaned back in his chair and inhaled a deep lungful of smoke from the cigarette that dangled from his fingers. He sighed and closed his eyes, willing the pounding headache that threatened to send him home early to leave. It didn't and he groaned at its annoyance factor and its cause.

The morning had started out fine, until he had gone to pick up the weekly mail. There, stuffed among his business and personal correspondences, was a letter from none other that his _frère_ Henri. Now usually, he loved receiving letters from home, after all they kept him updated on the lives of his friends and family as well as the ebb and flow of emotions in the Thieves Guild. But from the greeting, he knew something was up and it was promising not to bode well for him.

_Gambit,_ the note had said_, I think that you're about to have a whole lot a trouble heading your way. The Assassins have been in an uproar ever since you left and now word is that BellaDonna is up to no good. Yes, I know you are absolutely shocked. But be careful, we have been keeping your whereabouts a secret, but still, you should prepare for the worst. Être sûr petit frère. _[Be safe little brother.]

From the use of his old codename to the mention of his ex-fiancee, the whole letter gave him a pounding headache and left him in a very foul mood. He scraped together the small pile of earnings and scooped them into his pocket.

"I'll have to break the bank another day _mon ami_," he weakly joked to Todd," I'll be seein' yo'. "

Todd nodded and turned his attention back to one of the many poker tables that filled his saloon. The cool evening air revived him somewhat, and toned his headache down to a faint throbbing sensation. He breathed deeply as he strode through the shadows of the alleyways. His home might be in a nice section of town, but his preferred hangouts were not.

Quietly he swung open the gate to his yard and trudged up the path and through the front door. He silently clicked the complicated series of locks into place and shrugged out of his coat. He inhaled and caught a whiff of something sweet and floral. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he spied a potted desert primrose sitting on the hall table. Rogue had started to add little things like that around the house; a flower here, a book there, a small but fresh bouquet of flowers on the breakfast table. And he had to say, he didn't mind at all.

He padded noiselessly down the hallway towards the kitchen and swung the door open before freezing in shock. Rogue was there, back turned to him. She was kneeling in a large metal tub and the flickering light from the stove caused the alabaster skin on her back to glow. He swallowed and fought the urge to sneak up on her and run his hands all over her body. She poured some water from a pitcher on her head to clean out some of the soap there, still blissfully unaware of his presence. Swallowing as he felt a familiar fire run through his veins, he closed the door with great care and slowly crept towards his bedroom.

Remy closed the door to his room and flopped down on his bed, the image of what he'd seen of her body still very much imprinted in his mind. He had to stop thinking of her like that, no matter how nice it was. She was only here to work off her debt to him, and he was fairly certain that she despised him heartily. But his mind still insisted on bringing her to the forefront and his imagination began to stir.

He groaned and plopped a pillow over his face. He seriously needed some sleep, but some little corner of his mind told him that was going to be easier said than done.

* * *

Rogue sighed and dried herself with a piece of cloth. It seemed like forever since she had a bath, and with Remy out of the house it seemed like a good time to take one. She scowled as she tugged her nightgown over her head. He had been good to her, she had to admit that, but still the thought of being his servant irked her.

So, she had started outlining her plan of escape. From her own observations and from what her new friend Kitty had told her, the train that ran through Bay City every day wet as far as Meridian. From there, it would only be a short trip back to her Aunt Irene's.

A familiar wave of worry ran through her veins as she thought about her Aunt. Yes, her life there had been hard to put it mildly, but at least there, she knew her Aunt actually wanted her there because she loved her.

She tugged the tub to the back door, intending to empty and scrub it in the morning. The grandfather clock in the parlor chimed the hour and she closed the damper on the stove so there would still be coals in the morning. She took the kitchen candle in hand and padded down the hall to her room. Curling up beneath the warmth of her blanket, she blew it out and closed her eyes, her mind still trying to form a plan.

The next morning Remy seemed to be in a quiet, pensive mood but she ignored it. She really didn't want to know, or even care to know. Or at least that's what she tried to tell herself. After breakfast was over, he retreated to his study. She rolled her eyes and started mixing the ingredients for a batch of bread. It was relatively mindless work for her, so she allowed herself to mull over the faint beginnings of the plan that she had come up with last night.

She did have a little bit of money saved up, it wasn't much, but if she was careful, she might have enough to get her a ticket to Meridian. From there, she figured she could either walk home or if she was lucky, catch a ride with one of their neighbors. She had just formed the dough into loaves and set them aside to rise when a loud knocking filled the air. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she made her way to the front door and opened it.

A handsome brown haired man stood there, casually crossing his arms. His piercing brown eyes narrowed and he stared at her with such intensity that she found her spine stiffening beneath his gaze and the bronze star on his vest.

"Can Ah help ya?" she asked, a little sharper than she meant to.

The man smirked," So you're Remy's housekeeper. I was wondering if I'd ever get the chance to meet you. I'm Sherriff Summers."

"And what can Ah do for ya?" she said, still keeping her rigid posture.

He pulled a faded letter from his pocket and handed it to her. "Will you give this to Remy? It's the letter he's been expecting."

"Okay," she said and took it from him.

He tipped his hat." Nice meeting you," he said and turned to leave.

"Wish Ah could say the same for ya," she muttered and shut the door with a thud.


	6. Lies, Truths, and No Escape

Sorry it's taken me so long to put up this next chapter. Hope you haven't all lost interest, because things are going to start getting interesting very soon.

* * *

Rogue carefully pinned her waist-length hair into an elegant bun, leaving a few wisps to frame her face with the tiny curls that would undoubtedly form. Her long, emerald dress was ruffled with finely worked black lace and the coat, a matching green with black ruffled sleeves fit her perfectly. But from she'd see of Kitty's work, she'd expect nothing less.

She irritably yanked the last button on her boots and tossed the button hook on the dresser with a snort. She hated dressing up like this, she'd much rather be wearing homespun or cotton and hide in the back pews of the church on the Sunday. At least then she didn't feel like such a fraud.

She opened the door to her room and stalked down the hall towards the foyer, grumbling the entire way. Remy was waiting for her in the foyer, and he smiled at her obvious irritation.

"You look _belle_ as always _chere_," he said as he locked the door behind him.

She rolled her eyes. "Ah thought Ah told ya not ta call me that anymore," she grumbled and took his offered arm.

"_Desole _Rogue," he said and averted his eyes to the street.

She faltered in her step for a moment as they moved down the dusty street toward the church. He had been doing that a lot lately, avoiding her eyes and keeping his words to a more minimal, less teasing manner. And for some unknown reason, she found it offensive. She actually missed his teasing! What was wrong with her?

She stepped closer to Remy unconsciously as they neared the milling crowd of people. She always had a hard time making friends and talking to people and here in Bay City it was even harder. The higher society made it clear that she wasn't one of them, even if Remy was accepted, and the lower echelons didn't want her either, nor did the average middle class women of town.

The only ones who even remotely talked to her were Kitty, the seamstress, and Jean, Sherriff Summers wife. But still, even with them she was an outsider, and the feeling of loneliness and isolation swept over her like a physical force. Oh God, how she wanted to get home. Back to Irene, back to where she actually knew where she fit in, where life was simple yet hard, where she could just go back to the way things were.

She felt Remy pause and looked up in time to see an easy, companionable grin cross his features.

"Kurt," he called suddenly, "Over here _mon ami._"

She looked up to see a dark haired young man weaving his way through the crowd. He came to a stop and shook Remy's outstretched hand enthusiastically.

"Remy," he greeted him in a heavily accented voice," I haven't seen you in a long time." His strange dark violet eyes focused on her and he smiled. "And you must be za Rogue I've heard so much about," he continued," My name is Kurt Vagner."

"Pleased ta meet ya," she said with a polite smile, returning the young man's lively handshake just as the church bells began to ring.

"Come sit wit' us Kurt. Dere's plenty of room and de more de merrier I say."

"Love to," he responded cheerily and stuck by their side as they trickled into the sanctuary with the rest of the townspeople.

Rogue had always hated church when she was little and as she got older, her opinion changed very little. It wasn't that she was against hearing from the Good Book; in fact she actually enjoyed it. It was the people that she couldn't stand. The lies, the hypocrisy and the blatant disregard for it almost made her sick.

She watched as the circuit preacher waved his arms around in a comical manner, beseeching everyone from the fly on the ceiling to the parishioners in the church to heed his message. She fought with the urge to fan herself or laugh. This was the other part of church she had always hated, sitting still in a church for hours on hard wooden pews in a room that was either too hot or too cold.

She tuned out the preacher's words and focused her musings on the men sitting next to her. Kurt was sweet, she decided, if not annoying like a brother would be. Not that she'd know, after all she had grown up alone. He also had money, something else she had grown up without, if his clothes were anything to go by. But truthfully, she wasn't interested in money or anything like that. All she wanted was friends, real friends, not a bunch of air-headed, spoiled childlike adults.

Remy on the other hand was still mostly an enigma to her, though granted she didn't spend much time trying to figure it out. He was an excellent gambler she knew, could hold his liquor better than most, he owned property in town and the best gambling hall, his house was large and lavish and he could easily afford the best that money could buy.

It was almost too perfect, just like him. He was tall and with his build and natural gracefulness he might have been an acrobat or dancer before coming out West. He was also strikingly handsome and if the tidbits she had managed to hear from the saloon girls were true, he was also an attentive lover. She blushed slightly at that and once again thanked Heaven that he was considerate and obeyed her wishes to stay out of her bed.

However, if one day he should decide to test her by making her share his bed, she wasn't all too sure that she would be able to stop herself from doing things she knew she ought not to do. And how sad was it that some small part of her wished he'd do just that?

* * *

Remy wanted to shift in his seat so badly; his legs were aching like nothing else. But still he refried, some little portion of his mind still afraid of his _Tante _Mattie finding out and whacking him with a wooden spoon like she used to when he was a child.

"Now ya'll need ta pay 'tention in church yo' l'il rascal," she'd say in her thick as Mississippi mud accent," Or de Lords gonna come an' git ya."

He missed her and the rest of his family as. His brother Henri and sister in law Mercy, his cousins Emil, Etienne, and Theoren, and his father Jean Luc; he had't seen them in so long. His exile had been tough on all of them, and it was all because of BellaDonna.

His jaw clenched as he thought about that swamp witch. She was stunningly beautiful with long blonde hair and limpid blue eyes, and he had once thought that he was in love with her. But, he realized now, it wasn't love but infatuation. And Julien, as much as he despised him, he was also tempted to thank him for breaking his hypnotic gaze on his sister.

He still wasn't sure exactly what had made him go for the Assassin's Princess when he was a Prince of Thieves himself. Besides, she couldn't hold a candle to Rogue.

He paused with that thought, since when had he started thinking of her like that. She was beautiful, with emerald eyes that sparkled with the intensity of her emotions, deep auburn hair that shone in the sunlight and alabaster skin that almost seemed to glow. He cared for her, had from the beginning, and over time he'd felt the sudden and ever strengthening desire to protect her and shield her from the cruelty the rest of the world had to offer.

Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, Remy swallowed a sigh. He felt guilty for lying to her. He could still remember Sam Guthrie's letter with perfect clarity.

_Dear Mr. LeBeau,_

_ My friend Scott Summers had told me that you're looking for information on the relatives of a girl who was kidnapped from Meridian. After much searching I did discover that a girl who went by the name of Anna Marie was kidnapped about four months ago. She lived with an ailing and blind aunt, who I am sorry to say, was murdered. I do hope this answers whatever questions you had, sorry I couldn't find out more. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Samuel Guthrie_

He didn't have the heart to tell her that her aunt was gone. He was afraid that if he did, all the happiness he'd come to love about her would vanish. That she would blame him in some weird way for her aunt's death. He didn't want to see her unhappy so he had done what he did best. He lied.

He tuned back into the preachers sermon and almost immediately wished he hadn't. The man was raving on about lying and how it was abomination to God, and about its punishment in the fiery lakes of Hell. He wanted to groan and bury his head in his hands, the day had only begun but it was already promising to end on a sour note.

* * *

Rogue opened the door to her room and closed it noiselessly behind her. She was leaving, debt owed be damned. She flinched as she recalled some of the cruel things he'd said to her over dinner. Granted, he had been pretty drunk at the time, but she still didn't have to take it.

She fingered the train ticket in her pocket that she'd bought a few days earlier. It was nearly dawn; if she hurried she could make the train and be gone before he got up. She set a note on the kitchen table and snuck out of the house into the predawn darkness.

She made her way down the inky streets, senses alert for any signs of trouble. However, they still weren't good enough. A large burly arm attached itself around her body and a large meaty hand clapped itself over her mouth.

"Hey Toad," a voice chuckled," Looks like we caught Remy's girl trying to sneak away. Whaddya say we just go and give her back like the good neighbors we are."

She wanted to groan, she recognized the voice ad the nickname.

_Fred Dukes an Todd Tolanski, _she thought_, It would be mah luck dat I'd run inta two of Remy's friends when Ah'm tryin' ta leave. _

She quit struggling as they reached the door. Todd knocked forcefully and she resigned herself to the inevitable. If this kept up, there'd be no way for her to leave Bay City.

_Ah'm sorry Irene, _she thought as the door swung open, _Ah tried._

Remy looked pretty out of sorts at the moment and, she swallowed, devilishly handsome with his sleep tousled hair sticking out at all angles. He scowled at Toad with sleep laden eyes and she could tell that despite the few hours of sleep he'd had, the liquor had already burned its way through his system.

"Toad, what are ya doin' at _mon domicile _[my house] at _cinq heures du matin_ [five in the morning]?"

Toad chuckled and jerked a thumb at her, "Just returnin' some missing property of yours. We caught her on the way to the train station."

It was then that he noticed her and he blinked, instantly awake from shock. She stared at him, willing him to see her reasons through her eyes. He shook his head a bit and Fred put her down on the top step.

"T'anks _mes amis_," he said and pulled her into the house," I'll be seein' yo' later."

He closed the door behind them and they stood in the foyer, silently watching each other.

* * *

Remy sat with his cup of coffee at the kitchen table, watching Rogue sitting across from him. She had her head bowed and her slender shoulders heaved with her breath, and he could tell that she was trying not to cry in front of him. Something in his chest hurt to see that, he knew he'd hurt her.

"Why didn't ya tell meh?" she drawled thickly," Why didn't ya tell meh that mah Aunt Irene was dead?"

"I didn't want ta upset yo'," he said softly.

Her head jerked up, eye snapping with pain and anger. "Didn't want ta upset meh? Good God Remy, ya'll have let meh go on for the last few weeks thinkin' that mah Aunt Irene was still alive. Can ya imagine what Ah'd do if Ah'd gotten back to Meridian and found her dead? How Ah'd feel? Ya'll lied ta meh!"

He sighed," I'm sorry, I really am. For lyin' ta yo', for what I said at da table earlier, for a lot of t'ings."

"Ah'm sorry I ran away," she said bowing her head once again," And whatever punishment ya'll come up with, Ah deserve."

He smiled sadly. "Yo' did what yo' thought was right, ain't gonna blame yo' for dat. But as to your punishment," he sighed," I can't really trust yo right now, so I will have someone watchin' de house. Don't leave de grounds. If yo' have to leave, I'll be goin' wit' ya. Alright? That's all Ah got for now, I'll think of the rest later."

She nodded her head and stood up to go back to her room.

"Thank ya," she said softly.

"For what _cherie_?"

"For lettin' me stay when I know I don't deserve it."

"Any time," he said gently and watched her figure retreat back down the hall, leaving him alone with his cup of coffee and his thoughts.


	7. Whispers From De Bayou

_Remy sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee while he watched Rogue finish up with the dishes. She seemed to be okay, not quite happy, but… content, almost. He sighed internally as he thought of Sam Guthrie's letter, how was he going to tell her that her Aunt Irene was dead? From what he'd heard, they were very close and he knew that not a day went by that she didn't worry about her._

_ He was sure that Creed probably had something to do with the murder and he felt another stab of guilt poke at his conscience. She might have been well into the grieving process by now if he'd let her go home, could have started healing. But, there was also the possibility that Creed would have killed her too. And if he hadn't rescued her, there was no telling where she would have ended up by now. _

_ She finished drying the last of the plates and set it in its spot in the cabinets, and then dried her hands on a dishcloth. He inhaled and held his breath for a moment. He had to tell her, might as well be now._

_ "Rogue," he said hesitantly, and then paused, unsure how to continue._

_ "Yah?" she asked, turning her sparkling green eyes in his direction and quirking an eyebrow. _

_ He shifted slightly in his seat. "How close are ya to yo' Tante Irene?" _

_ "She's pretty much mah mother. Mah own never was aroun' much, so she raised me an' taught me almos' everything Ah know. Why?" _

_ "Well," he said slowly," About a mois [month] ago I went ta Sherriff Summers' house ta see if he could fin' anyt'ing out about your Tante. An'…. I got a reply." _

_ "Really?" her eyes lit up with a mix of absolute joy and hope," Is she doin' okay?_

_ He paused for a moment, she looked so happy, how could he take that away from her? So he took a breath and did the one thing that every nerve in his body was screaming at him not to do. He lied. _

_ "Ya, she's doin' fine," he said and did all he could to look her in the eyes, willing the truth of his lie to show in their depths. _

_ She smiled, a genuine smile that made him feel even worse about the lie. "hank you fer checkin' on her," she said, "That really means a lot ta me." _

_ He smiled, a little weakly, before answering in a quiet tone of voice," Anytime chere. Anytime." _

* * *

Remy groaned and rubbed his eyes, why on God's green Earth had he lied? He should have just told her the truth, her feelings be damned. She had run from him. Him! He was the one who she had to thank for the fact that she was no longer with Creed, the fact that she probably had a better life than she had with Irene. Anger coursed through his veins like fire, mixing well with the lingering irritation from the letter he had received from New Orleans

_Mon petite frère [My little brother],_

_ BellaDonna is on the move again, and despite our best efforts, she is on her way to Bay City. You know as well as I do, that once she gets there she'll drag your Cajun self back to New Orleans and force you to actually marry her this time. Unless you're already married, then she can't do anything. But as the chances of that being true are slim, you might want to move on and make yourself scarce. Pere and I have sent Emil, Etienne, and Theo to help cover your tracks and transfer your affairs. They should arrive in a about a week, and a few days ahead of BellaDonna and her envoy. Be careful Remy, and write when you have settled down again. Bonne chance. [Good luck]_

_ Your loving frère,_

_ Henri. _

He growled in frustration, the mention of his ex-fiancé was enough to drive him to dive into the bottle of expensive bourbon he kept in his office. He meant to stop after a drink or two, he really did, but he ended up consuming most of the bottle and being extremely irritated with Rogue that evening at dinner. He cringed; yes that was probably what had set her running away from him like she did, he did say some rather rude and cutting things to her.

Guilt gnawed at him like a dog at a bone and he ran a hand over his face. He didn't want to move from Bay City, didn't want to leave the friends he'd made or his gambling house. But most importantly, he didn't want to either uproot Rogue or leave her behind to face the wrath of BellaDonna and whatever Assassins she'd bring with her.

And on that note, why did he even care? She obviously didn't care about him, why should he worry about her? But, for some odd reason, he did care and he wanted to keep her safe. He re-read the letter in front of him. As much as he loved his cousins and was excited by the prospect of seeing them again, he wished it was under better circumstances. They would help him disappear, never to be seen again.

He stood up and stared out the window at the twilight accented roads below. Some people were going home from work; some were heading to the saloons or brothels to pass their night away with women, liquor, and gambling. He loved this town, with all its faults and he wanted nothing more than to stay. But there was nothing he could do. Or, he paused and a thoughtful look graced his features, was there?

_Unless you're already married, then she can't do anything, _his brother had said.

Well, he didn't want to leave Bay City, he had a girl that couldn't leave, and he had time. He smirked, yes this idea was quick, full of holes, and had a very low chance of succeeding. He could only hope that Lady Luck was on his side, and he could convince Rogue to go through with it.

* * *

Rogue sat at the table and stared at Remy like he'd suddenly sprouted another head.

"Ya'll want me ta do what?" she finally asked, using every trick she knew to keep herself from screaming the question at him.

"I know it sounds _fou_ [crazy] but jus' here me out," he pleaded," I wanna stay in Bay City, and dere's only one way to do it. My ex-fiancee is on her way here, an' so are a couple of _mon _cousins. If I am married by da time dey all get here, she can't do anyt'ng and we can both go on like nothin' happened."

"Like nothin' happened?" she echoed incredulously," Okay, let's jus' pretend here for a moment that Ah even say yes, a lot would change. We'd be married, husband and wife, not housekeeper and employer. People would be lookin' at us different, and do ya really want ta give up your womanizing and gamblin' every night?"

Remy paused and bit his lip; no he really didn't want to give it all up. But it was either that or spend the rest of his life running from BellaDonna. Then a thought struck him and a smirk graced his features as realization dawned.

"Well I could probably cut down on de gamblin' but if we're married, den I don' have to womanize," he responded cheekily.

Her mouth fell open when she finally caught his meaning. "Oh Ah think not Cajun," she finally stuttered out, cheeks flaming with embarrassment," There's no way Ah'm sleepin' with ya, ever."

"Oh but _chere_," he purred, the endearment slipping from his lips," As yo' pointed out, we would be married an' last I checked married people share a room."

She scowled at him," So is this mah punishment for runnin'? Ya'll are gonna force meh ta marry ya?"

"Well, I hadn't t'ought about that, but now dat yo' mention it, dat just might work. I may be a fair man _chere_, but I do have my pride. And your l'il stunt put me in a bad light wi't some of my business associates."

"An' this stunt is gonna help it how?" she asked wryly.

He smirked and she felt her anger bubble up. This was not going to end well.


End file.
